Tholzagith: A Forgotten Tale
by Fw00sh
Summary: Here lies the tale of Tholzagith, a Forgotten Beast of lore.  Read on and see what horrid fate this epic has in store.


AN: Hey readers, this is my first story in both DF and in general, so salutations to all! Enjoy this poem which I originally wrote for a class but expanded upon once it started hitting me over the head with ideas. The dwarves demanded it be so! So read on, and have ! !FUN! !

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><p>Tholzagith: A Forgotten Tale<p>

In the mountainous realm of the sturdy dwarves, there lay a fortress strong and fair.  
>Its walls were high and its mines were deep, and its halls were filled with song and drink.<br>But far below this mountainhome a terror roamed the darkened deeps.  
>To the mountain's roots the dwarves had delved, and forgotten beasts woke in their wake.<br>For a monstrous creature dwelt below, a twisted blend of man and beast.  
>As from its slumber it awoke, it heard the sounds of life and screeched.<br>Since the dawn of time it had slept alone, and now arose in rage and wrath.

As it writhed within its stony tomb the walls began to chip and crack.  
>Its prison breached, the creature fled, finally free to spread its wrath.<br>Through mossy caves and darkened pools it followed the scent of blood and wine.  
>The deeps were vast and the dwarves were few but the nightmare beast could bide its time.<br>Through years of dark it searched and toiled, until at last it found its prey.  
>The shaft was old and the scent was dim but the creature knew it had found the way.<br>Up the shaft the nightmare crawled, its monstrous claws gripped rock and stone.  
>Above the fortress hummed and glowed, not knowing death was right below.<p>

As the creature reached the tunnel's peak it found a maze of mines and track.  
>The dwarves had quarried long and deep and endless tunnels curved and creaked.<br>Within that maze some quarried still, their helms alight and picks at work.  
>They did not hear the creeping death, their minds consumed by stone and dirt.<br>The click of claws was loud on stone, but the pickaxe's song was louder still.  
>With a piercing howl the monster flew, its victim born down to the ground.<br>He had not time to give a shriek before his blood was pouring down.  
>With claws stained crimson from the tide, the beast began to hunt anew.<br>One by one the miners fell, their lights extinguished in the gloom.

From the fort above a craftsdwarf came, seeking only stone.  
>A statue he was tasked to make and stocks above were low.<br>So now below he searched the mines, his patience at its end.  
>For every stone he came across was flawed too much to mend.<br>This one too light, this one too dark, this one too soft to carve.  
>Some orthoclase, some microcline, so bright he must discard.<br>Until he saw the perfect stone, a marble boulder fair.  
>Its beauty tugged so on his heart that he could only stare.<br>But as he reached to claim his love his heart was turned to ice.  
>For all around he now could see that greed could have its price.<br>Once greyclad halls were splashed with red, a corpse lay to his right.  
>Its mangled flesh and tattered limbs brought terror to its height.<br>But as he turned to flee this scene as stone again he froze.  
>For looming in the darkened halls three crimson eyes did glow.<p>

And so the carver turned and ran, the nightmare right behind.  
>All thoughts were blurred and panic ruled as terror filled his mind.<br>Each second felt as if an hour, each minute as a year.  
>Yet still the race continued on, a marathon of fear.<br>Till all at once it reached its end, as gravity ensued.  
>In one misstep the carver fell, his panicked footing skewed.<br>Into a sticky pool he fell, its contents crimson hued.  
>A stricken body lay beside, its vision dull and glazed.<br>A copper pick, its former tool, the carver took and raised.  
>The twisted beast approached him now, no hurry in its stride.<br>It knew there could be no escape, its victim's fate was tied.  
>And so it was caught most surprised when the pickaxe hit its eye.<p>

A howl unearthly filled the mine, resounding through the shafts.  
>Above the dwarf folk ceased their toil, pausing in their crafts.<br>Below the creature writhed and wailed as pain consumed its mind.  
>Its claws the dripping pick removed, blood black and red combined.<br>With a clank the tool was tossed aside, and the beast began pursuit.  
>The dwarf, meanwhile, was far ahead and now sure of his route.<br>As he reached the central staircase grand he marveled at his fate.  
>Tholzagith he'd faced, the devil deep, and lived to reach the gate.<br>And so he climbed the endless steps, to warn dwarves with his tale.  
>He did not know that right below the beast had tracked his trail.<p>

Above he spun his tragic tale, of love and loss and deaths.  
>The glowing eyes and bloody claws made listeners hold their breaths.<br>The soldiers donned their armor bright, its greaves and mail of steel.  
>Their azure axes were adamant, and the edges seemed unreal.<br>Wearing only leather guards the marksdwarves fetched their bows.  
>Their silver arrows were tipped with barbs to latch onto their foes.<br>The carver too would take up arms, though none he had prepared.  
>A lowly axe of copper dull was the only one unpaired.<br>He stayed behind as civvies fled and axedwarves formed their squads.  
>The marksdwarves formed their ranks above and some prayed to their gods.<br>Below they heard the staircase creak as death rose to their tier.  
>Two glowing eyes and one dripping black, Tholzagith was here.<p>

To greet it came a steady rain of silver razor-edged.  
>With feathers of a fearsome roc this deadly storm was fledged.<br>And while this hail in stone could lodge the beast did not need flinch.  
>For in its scaly darkened hide they could not stick an inch.<br>Their ammo spent, the marksdwarves fled, their crossbows to re-arm.  
>Below the soldiers swore and charged, their intent to cause harm.<br>They'd hoped to face a weakened foe, one injured from afar.  
>Instead its hide they could not chink, its eye the only scar.<br>So now they fought the fearsome beast, each strike marked by their cries.  
>The carver stood in disbelief, not trusting his own eyes.<p>

For though the axes hit their marks, each shining like the moon.  
>The creature's blood refused to spill, its flesh could not be hewn.<br>And though the fighters were unmatched in terms of strength and skill.  
>Slowly they began to tire, the beast they could not kill.<br>Seeing weakness in their eyes, the fiend began to strike.  
>Its claws rent steel like paper shreds, each fang was like a spike.<br>Blood began to fill the hall, tide crimson born anew.  
>Battle cries had turned to screams, those standing still were few.<br>But as the beast began to feast upon those lying still.  
>A streak of silver towards its eye and through the air did drill.<p>

The sender of this sterling shaft was perfect in his aim.  
>And so the following event on him you cannot blame.<br>As when the arrow reached the eye it did cause quite a chip.  
>For as it hit that crimson orb the bolt apart did rip.<br>The falling shards from afar resembled silver tears.  
>And as they fell it seemed as if the action would take years.<br>As before every gleaming shard, to the ground could float.  
>The beast had reached the startled dwarf and grabbed him by the throat.<p>

With one small twitch claws dug deep, and the marksdwarf lost his head.  
>As his corpse was crushed and tossed aside his fellows turned and fled.<br>The last defense had been destroyed, the fort was good as dead.  
>Until the carver left his nook, purpose in his stride.<br>He could no longer hide in fear as all around him died.  
>Copper axe held in his arms the lonely dwarf advanced.<br>Around him rusty puddles formed and off his boots they glanced.  
>Ahead the beast had reached the stairs that led to life and light.<br>If it could reach that shining hall all flesh would meet its blight.

Hearing movement right behind the nightmare turned and hissed.  
>There stood another mortal fool, not worthy to exist.<br>As memory reached its ancient mind it gave another cry.  
>This was the one that hurt it so, this pest needed to die.<br>Letting loose a fearsome roar the beast rushed at its foe.  
>The insect did not try to flee, but waited for the blow.<br>As it loomed above its dwarven prey the monster gave a start.  
>For it had the time to give a scream as the copper pierced its heart.<p>

By the time the beast had ceased its throes the stone was soaked with black.  
>With a final lurch it hit the ground, resounding with a crack.<br>Not quite sure this all was real the carver stood in shock.  
>But before long he found the truth as firm as any rock.<br>Wading through the ebon tide the carver grasped his axe.  
>The weapon slid out of the wound as easily as wax.<br>When he reached the hall of song and ale the tale he did spread.  
>The devil deep was slain at last, Tholzagith was dead.<p> 


End file.
